Lucky Stars (Ghosts and Reincarnation #5)(2)

“We should join the party, Belle. Mum’s asking after you,” Miles told her, pulling her out of her thoughts and taking her elbow, forcing her forward, closing the door to her room behind them.

Belle had met Joy Bennett, Miles’s mother, that afternoon when they’d arrived at the family castle, called Chy An Als Point. An imposing, rambling, stone structure with an uneven roofline, some of it built hundreds upon hundreds of years before on a jagged Cornish cliff. The winds blew the waters of the sea so they smashed against the rocks at the castle’s base, giving the already daunting castle a strangely unsettling atmosphere.

You couldn’t say the castle was beautiful. The many different styles of its construction, as it was added onto century after century, clashed weirdly at the same time they managed to mingle.

You could say it was spectacular, almost like a living entity, powerful, magnificent and impenetrable, perched for centuries on its cliff.

Regardless of the fact that it was slightly spooky, Belle loved it.

Upon meeting Miles’s Mum, Joy, Belle liked her without reservation. She was a lovely woman, tall and svelte, sharing the colouring of Miles. She was open, friendly, welcoming and kind, if a bit dramatic but, considering Belle’s mother and grandmother, Belle was used to more than a bit of drama.

Joy was also, Belle found (to her surprise), wary of her son. This was something she tried to hide but Belle, her senses attuned to the strangeness she felt from Miles, read it and worried about it.

Then again, Belle worried about everything.

Belle was, unfortunately, a worrier.

Still, Joy loved him. That was obvious, and she was affectionate toward him. But when her eyes drifted between Miles and Belle, Belle saw the backs of them grow uneasy.

This did not aid in Belle’s indecision about how she felt about Miles Bennett.

Not one bit.

Belle walked beside Miles down the thick carpet runner that ran the length of the stone-floored hall. He’d tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow in a way she thought was a tad too possessive but also wondered if her caution had more to do with the lessons she’d learned from Calvin and less to do with the reality of Miles.

She’d only dated two men since divorcing Calvin. She found she couldn’t open up to either and realised she was not yet ready to move forward in life romantically.

She should, she knew, be more like her mother and grandmother. Both of them had been handed by God an overabundance of outspokenness, outgoingness and outrageousness. They also had the capacity to plunge themselves, both feet first, eyes open, into cold, shark-infested waters if there was even the slightest possibility that there might be something rich and rewarding to come of this endeavour.

Since she was a little girl, Belle had thought that God had been so generous to her grandmother and mother, He’d not had enough to hand out when Belle came along.

Therefore Belle Abbot had lost out on these qualities and all her life had been timid, apprehensive and never took an uncalculated risk.

Never.

It was safe to repeat that point… never.

“It’s too bad your brother couldn’t make it to your mother’s birthday party,” Belle remarked as they made it to the top of a carpet-runnered stone stairwell that she and Miles and four other people could easily walk down, side by side.

Miles’s brother, James Bennett was equally, if not more, famous as Miles.

He was also, in looks, the exact opposite.

Miles looked like his mother.

James Bennett looked like his now-deceased father.

Black-haired with startlingly green eyes rimmed with long, black lashes, James Bennett (if the pictures were true) was taller than Miles. He was also lean and broad-shouldered but his muscles were more powerful. And, if Miles held his body with a casual ease, James held his with a fierce command.

James, in the many photos Belle had seen of him (and there were many), was more intense, more masculine, his features bolder and stronger, while Miles’s still held a hint of boyishness.

James, being elder, (arguably) more attractive and standing to (and unfortunately, three years ago, upon his father’s untimely death, actually doing it) inherit the castle, had much more attention on him his whole life.

He, however, had not gone into the family banking business but instead started his own business. He did something complicated Belle didn’t understand and did it very, very well making him far, far richer and increasing the already oppressive attention he had from the media.

He had, however, also inherited the role of CEO of the vast banking conglomerate that extended throughout the European Union and the Americas that the Bennett family had owned for years.

Now he did both, reportedly with great success even if his attention to these two undertakings was rather shocking since only one would tax even the best of men.

This served only to increase public interest.

The fact that he and Miles routinely dated and often had rather public but usually short-lived (though frequently stormy), relationships with every glamorous, beautiful and available model, actress and debutante, squiring them to art openings, charity functions and exclusive restaurants, made it all the worse.

“Oh, he’s here,” Miles said and Belle nearly missed a step when Miles made this casual statement.

“He’s here?” Belle breathed, unhappy about this news.

Miles had told her James couldn’t attend because of some business in Slovakia or Bosnia or some country ending in “ia”.